Uchiha Makoto listened to the daimyō's worries.
"If Your Highness permits, I'd be more than happy to share your burdens."
As they say, the key to winning a game of go is sometimes not on the board, but above it.
Best to solve such problems with classical mechanics.
Damn it—those vermin never do anything decent!
Cut them down.
Kill them all and replace the lot.
The Land of Fire has no shortage of young people who want to move forward.
The daimyō only smiled at Makoto's suggestion. "A jest, nothing more."
You shinobi need only swing your blades; as daimyō, I must consider far more. Those nobles are wealthy in their own right. If I stop playing by the rules, the table flips—and we all hurt each other.
At that attitude, Makoto's eyes went flat and dead-fish for a moment—so you don't trust me, huh—then he lowered his head and kept eating.
…
The moon sank; the sun rose again.
Here was where the dream of Konoha first began.
On an open field, shinobi from the Senju and the Uchiha gathered. Two great banners—one bearing the Uchiha fan, one the Senju crest—snapped in the wind.
In a jubilant mood, Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama clasped hands, signifying that the two clans had set aside a millennium of hatred and formally allied.
The assembled clansmen witnessed history; it felt like a dream, and cheers broke out on every side.
Of course—
A thousand-year blood feud is not so easily washed away.
Some were not so pleased—such as Senju Tobirama.
Tobirama had opposed the talks and the alliance from the start. In his bones he did not want the Senju and Uchiha tangled together.
Because of it, he and Hashirama had a fierce quarrel.
"Big Brother, about this alliance with the Uchiha—could you reconsider?"
"Even if you are clan head, you should hear the clan's voice!"
"Listen to what our people are saying!"
Tobirama pressed on, trying to overturn Hashirama's decision.
The Senju held all the cards—flying-dragon-on-your-face momentum. A few days ago Big Brother had let Madara go softheartedly… even thought about stabbing himself with a kunai… Brother, did the dice game rattle your brains?
Still—Hashirama had defeated Madara openly and fairly. The war's result was clear. If Hashirama simply found another chance to kill Madara, the remaining Uchiha were no concern. Hashirama could lead the charge, Tobirama could caw from the flank, and the Uchiha would be erased with a smile and a jest.
In fact, alliance day itself was the best chance.
Before the formalities, as clan head Hashirama could urgently call on the Uzumaki clan, borrow their sealing experts, and lay a barrier at the site—let the Uchiha in but not out—while Senju ambushes took their places in the dark. With proper placement, they could wipe out every last "innately evil" Uchiha.
Tobirama knew his idea was a bit despicable—striking at the conference table was black-hearted.
But!
The Senju would understand. Every Uchiha hand was stained with Senju blood.
If Big Brother thought it sounded ugly, Tobirama could shoulder the infamy for him. As the second to the clan head, he had long been prepared for that. Let Big Brother remain the innocent, lotus-pure leader.
Such an easy victory—how could they throw it away?
A future with the "innately evil" Uchiha gone from the world—just imagining it made Tobirama's hands itch to dance.
If they could eradicate the Uchiha, why bother with an alliance at all? He could not understand.
At Tobirama's offhand "proposal," Hashirama sucked in a breath.
His little brother's thinking was far too extreme.
This must never spread through the clan… the consequences would be disastrous.
"Enough, Tobirama. I already gave Madara my word."
"Your idea is far too extreme!"
"I will never allow such a thing. You are absolutely forbidden to repeat what you just said to anyone."
Hashirama's face went cold as a corpse; his warning was the harshest.
"I… Big Brother, everything I do is for the Senju!"
"Enough, Tobirama. I am the head of the Senju."
"Mutual hatred and slaughter lead to no good end."
In the end, Tobirama fell silent, talked down by Hashirama… and by the memory of his brother's iron fist.
…
The die was cast.
The Senju and Uchiha were allied—but this was only the beginning.
Building the village everyone dreamed of would require oceans of resources, years of time, and endless headaches. Problems multiplied like threads—thousands and tens of thousands.
Some were light; some were heavy.
All of that, however, was secondary.
The primary contradiction had to be solved first.
And the foremost question, in Tobirama's mind, was: who would speak for the village?
Hashirama felt there was no rush. Now that the clans were allied, the village's future could be discussed together.
At worst, hold a vote.
Better to focus on real work—building the village. He could start producing lumber with wood-style; that was the proper business.
"Tobirama, why are you not doing your job?"
"What matters now is that I use wood-style to prepare the timber we need these next few days."
He knew his brother too well, and his instincts screamed that Tobirama wanted to make trouble—to sabotage the hard-won peace.
"Big Brother… you…"
"Damn it!"
Tobirama's blood pressure spiked.
Fine, ally with the Uchiha. But don't let them step on the Senju's heads.
The village's spokesman must be Senju—after all, they were the victors in this war.
And Big Brother!
Do you even know who I'm doing this for?!
If you weren't my brother…
Believe it or not, I would… I'd just…
Damn it.